The Heat Makes Us Crazy
by glass-jars
Summary: Set before "Christmas." Someone requested a story about Tino asking out Berwald. I wrote one.


A/N: Set about a year before "Christmas."

It was warm, warm, warm. Tino was unused to this kind of a summer—usually it was a little cooler—so he was kind of… irritable. Even in light sandals and blue-green plaid capris and a dark brown tank top he was too warm. He stopped in the shade under a tall tree, setting down his groceries and tugging at Hana-Tamago's leash to stop her from running off, and pushed his hair back from his forehead with a sigh. He closed his eyes. The sun was bright.

Hana licked his toes cheerily, and though he pretended to be irritated he couldn't help but smile. It tickled too much to make him angry.

He looked down at her little black nose, raising an eyebrow. Then, "C'mon girl." They set off again. Tino hefted the grocery bag in his hand and frowned. His ice cream was going to melt if he didn't get home soon.

A young laugh shredded the air before them. Tino looked up, surprised. Then smiled. He was very near Berwald's house, and his friend stood outside watching his son Peter, who must've been five years old at the time. Peter was frolicking in the sprinkler, screeching and laughing with delight. Berwald stood in the shadows of his porch, observing, with a glass of chilled coffee in his hand. He was smiling very softly, a rare expression which made Tino go all wobbly in his stomach. Tino grinned to himself without realizing.

Then Hana-Tamago yipped excitedly, tugging her human over to the fence—for such a small dog she was pretty darn strong.

"Hana!" Tino tried to pull her back, but she dragged the leash from his hand and bounced through the open gate, into Berwald Oxenstierna's front yard.

Tino was horrified. He could feel his face heat up from embarrassment, and ran after his dog, who was now gallivanting with Peter through the sprinkler, tongue lolling to catch the water droplets. Tino stopped on the path, reluctant to get his groceries wet. "Hana, come back here!" He would never admit it, but he pouted at that moment.

Berwald watched all of this in amusement. The sight of Tino, standing there and pouting on his walkway, made him want to both laugh and blush. It was adorable. So he blushed deep red as he strode down the porch steps, and he held back a chuckle as he stepped into the grass. And he walked straight into a wave of water and was reduced to spluttering as he removed his glasses, wiping his eyes as more water rained down upon him.

Behind him he heard a soft giggle. Tino was laughing at him. How petrifying. He blushed even more, the usual glower of shame shadowing his face as he scooped Tino's tiny marshmallow of a dog into his arms and turned around. He didn't meet Tino's eyes (such a brilliant purple-blue, like blossoming Bachelor Buttons…) and stood dripping with the wet dog cradled in his arms. He put his glasses back on indignantly.

Tino bit his lip. Berwald was looking kind of angry. Tino knew he probably wasn't mad, but he was still somewhat frightened, despite the fact that the man had never laid a finger on him or spoken harshly to him… He was afraid, but at the same time he could hardly keep his eyes above his friend's collarbone—Berwald's rust-colored wife beater was soaked through and clung to his chest and stomach in a very flattering way, rather showing off his well-toned abdomen. His hair hung down in his eyes, and as he pushed it back, dripping, from his forehead, Tino felt his tummy flutter. He forgot to be afraid for just a moment.

They stood awkwardly for awhile. Peter sat under the water staring at them.

Tino licked his lips. "I'm sorry, Ber… I—didn't mean—"

"'S fine." Berwald's voice was gravelly. He still didn't meet Tino's eyes. "This's yer dog." Berwald pressed Hana into Tino's arms. She whined.

Tino frowned at the taller man's gruff tone. He looked down at his feet unhappily. "Y-yes…" He noticed Berwald didn't have on any shoes. He chewed on his lip and said, "I really am sorry, Ber! It's all my fault you got wet…"

"Don't." Berwald grunted. He cleared his throat. "Apologize, I mean."

Tino's eyes popped open at the sharpness in Berwald's voice, and he flinched upon seeing the man's seemingly threatening expression.

"I—" He could feel his eyes starting to itch and took a step back, squeezing Hana-Tamago in one arm, tightening his fingers around the handles of the grocery bag with the other hand.

And upon stepping back he stepped on Hana's leash, and tripped. He landed flat on his ass in the flower bed, half-crushing a tulip, dropping his dog and his groceries.

"ah…" He saw the shocked expression on Berwald's face, an felt himself go scarlet. It was too much. Tino scrambled to his feet as the tears—having built up with his bad mood all day—finally forced their way from the confines of his eyes, and he bolted. Hana-Tamago ran after him with a concerned yip.

Berwald scowled at the ground. He could just kick himself. He always ruined everything with his damned glaring and curt way of speaking. He growled angrily at himself, and crouched down, grabbing Tino's abandoned groceries and snapping the tulip's stem so he could put it in a cup. (The crumpled petals were purple and blue like Tino's eyes, with a warm golden center, which made him feel a little better.) He straightened up and made his way inside.

Peter followed him, shedding water on the kitchen floor as he asked, "Papa how come Mr. Vineyman was sad?"

Berwald shoved the perishable groceries—a pre-packaged salad and some coffee ice cream- into the refrigerator and the freezer and set the rest—crackers and dog treats—on the counter. He sighed, mumbling a quiet, "Dunno." to the little boy as he filled a cream-colored vase with water and stuck the crooked tulip in, straightening the crumpled petals. He pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat with grunt, leaning his head back. He could feel a migraine coming on.

"Papa…" Peter climbed into his lap, adding dampness to dampness. "Papa why are _you_ sad?" He touched his adoptive-father's cheeks with an innocent expression of concern, tiny fingertips soft and comforting.

Berwald wrapped his arms around his son with a small strangled sigh, and buried his face in his damp hair. "Not sad." But Peter knew he was lying.

Tino lay face-down on his pillow, with Hana-Tamago curled up on his back. His head pounded. He shivered a little—the air-conditioning was on high and his capris were soaking in the bathroom sink. He wished he could just throw them in the wash, but they were linen or something. So he lay on his face, wearing nothing but a tanktop and dark blue briefs, moping with a dog on his spine. He sighed tragically. He wished it were possible to punch oneself.

Hana-Tamago licked his ear. He shuddered and shouldered her away, just as the phone rang. He froze. Slowly, as it rang and rang, he stood and made his way over to the phone. Checked the caller ID. It read, "Oxenstierna B." He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then opened them with a pouty huff and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Uh. Hi… 'S Berwald." The Swede's voice sounded unsteady, but maybe that was just due to poor reception.

Tino cleared his throat. "I—um. Hello. What… do you need?"

There was a long pause. Finally, when Tino was beginning to wonder if Berwald had hung up, the man muttered, "Left yer groceries."

Tino sighed, rubbing his temple. "Sorry…"

"'S alright."

They were silent for a long time. It was awkward.

"Tino?"

"Y-Yes?" Tino gnawed on his lip.

"Want me to bring 'em over?"

"What?" Tino was confused. He'd forgotten what they'd been talking about, during the silence.

"Groceries." Berwald sounded like he was smiling. At least, Tino hoped he was smiling.

Tino blinked. "Oh! Yes, please. That would be wonderful." He bit his lip, unable to hold back a tiny grin. (Not that anyone but the dog could see it.)

"Bye." The phone clicked, quite sudden.

Tino put down the receiver. He threw himself onto his bed with a quiet laugh. "He's not angry!" He rolled onto his back. "Oh, thank God he's not angry I left my food!" Tino's head no longer pounded.

Hana-Tamago leapt onto his pillow, tilting her head with a curious whine, eyes wide.

Tino raised his eyebrows. "Don't look at me like that Hana!" He crossed his arms, faking irritation with a soft blush across his face. "He's very handsome after all!"

Berwald rang the doorbell, letting Peter slip to the ground. The boy grabbed onto his pinky, and Berwald smiled just as the door opened. He started and blushed, looking down at Tino, who was looking at the doorframe. Quietly, Tino said, "Sorry for being such a bother." He was chewing on his lip again.

Berwald stared at Tino's mouth. (It looked so soft.) He tried to speak, but nothing came out, so he cleared his throat. Then, "'S fine." He ran a hand through his hair. "Not your fault. Shoulda… I shoulda been less scary…" Berwald frowned, twisting his mouth.

Tino looked up, his eyelashes catching light from the sunset. "Ah—you—You can't help it, though! I mean—it's not that it's scary—I just worry that sometimes maybe you're angry with me so I get all frightened 'cause I really value our friendship and I don't want you to hate me—and… Yeah. You're… nice." Tino looked down at his feet, fidgeting, twisting the fabric of his tanktop between his fingers.

Berwald opened his mouth to reply, but Peter cut him off.

"You talk fast Mr. Vineyman."

Tino's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at Peter, and covered his mouth, holding back a laugh. "Mr… _Vineyman_…?" He was grinning wide behind his fingers. He said, "_Do_ I talk fast?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "Like that crazy person on the corner downtown!"

Berwald slapped the back of the Peter's head lightly as Tino started giggling. "Don't be rude, Peter." He glowered at his embarrassing son, who only smiled.

"Papa I made him happy for you!" Peter beamed and beamed like a little ray of sunshine.

Berwald covered his mouth with a fist, going crimson as he looked away pointedly. Tino's laughter died away, and he smiled up at the tall Swedish man standing in his doorway. Berwald's face was frightening sometimes, but his eyes were gentle and his cheeks were the most adorable shade of pinkish-red.

Tino smiled shyly.

"Berwald?" He licked his lips.

Berwald grunted in acknowledgement, not looking toward him.

"Do you wanna stay for dinner? I'm making chilled cucumber soup." He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Berwald glanced at Tino, then looked away again, his face growing redder by the second. Tino's expression was so cute and sweet. Berwald thought he might explode if he looked any longer (He attributed the feeling to a mixture of sexual tension, happiness, and fear-induced nausea.) so he focused his attention on Peter's feet. He clicked his teeth together nervously and finally mumbled an embarrassed "Sounds fine."

Tino grinned ear-to-ear and grabbed Berwald's hand, dragging him inside. At Tino's touch—the brush of his soft fingertips on Berwald's palm—he felt his entire body grow warmer. He focused on not melting, and let Tino steer him to a chair in his small living room/dining room. Peter climbed onto his lap and snuggled against him.

"Are you still sad, Papa?" Peter looked up at him with big blue eyes as Tino busied himself in the tiny kitchen, with Hana getting in his way as best she could.

Berwald smiled at Peter, feeling himself become calmer, cooler. "'M not sad." He kissed Peter's nose lightly. Peter smiled up at his Papa cheerily.

"Good!"

The meal was slightly awkward. It was hard to start a conversation at first, because Berwald was such an introverted and shy man. But once Peter started on about his neighbor friend (who he called Ice), the atmosphere was much more easy-going. Berwald began to relax a little, and smiled with more ease.

Tino made sure to smile at him often, too, so Berwald knew he wasn't afraid of him or anything. It was very easy to smile at him. All Tino had to do was meet Berwald's brilliant turquoise-colored eyes, and he'd be off in a fit of silly grins and blushing. (Perhaps this said something about their relationship.) He hoped Berwald didn't notice that aspect, and continued to listen to Peter go on and on about how cool "Ice" was. (He was all the way in high school!)

And eventually Tino found himself opening up a little, and talking about his childhood and about how thankful he was that Berwald helped him get away from Ivan, and about how he wanted a house with a garden like they had. He felt extremely relaxed for the first time in a long time (since the first month he was free from his ex) and Berwald's eyes were kind and curious.

Peter let out a big yawn as his Papa hoisted him up in his arms. He nuzzled his Papa's chest snugly, and Berwald smiled minutely down at him.

Tino grinned at how fatherly and nice Berwald was, and saw them out the door a little sadly. Berwald bowed his head as he left, with one of those rare small smiles directed toward Tino. Tino's chest fluttered and he gave half an uncertain laugh, waggling his fingers in farewell. The door clicked deafeningly, and Tino's apartment felt rather barren without the tall blonde and his energetic son. Tino sighed and made his way slowly to his bedroom with Hana licking at his heels. He went through the routine of changing and brushing his teeth and finally slid into bed with the fan pointed at his pillow and the window open a crack.

Hana-Tamago climbed into the bed, curling up beside Tino's head and nuzzling his hair lovingly. He smiled at her and turned off the lamp.

There were a few days where Tino didn't see Berwald again, but then the weekend came once more, and he was walking home from the fish market with a filet of cod wrapped up in a bag.

It felt as if it might be even hotter than before, if that were possible. Tino was actually wearing his swim trunks instead of shorts, and a sheer white tanktop. He could feel his shoulders and nose beginning to burn. Scalp too. He glared up at the sun, shading his eyes, and heard his name shouted. Or something similar.

"Mister Vine-my-nanen!"

He looked down just in time to be headbutted in the stomach by a five year old. He laughed, and patted Peter on the head, as the little boy circled his scrawny arms around Tino's hips, grinning up at him.

Tino crouched down and lifted Peter up in his arms, letting his bag of fish dangle from his elbow, and headed toward Berwald, who was standing at the gate waiting. He frowned at Peter sternly, extricating him from Tino's arms and mumbling,

"Shouldn't run into people like tha'…"

Peter pretended shame, then kissed his Papa on the cheek and leapt to the ground, running into the yard.

Within seconds the sprinkler was on full blast.

Berwald rubbed the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. Sometimes he just couldn't deal with Peter's abundant energy—especially not in this kind of heat. He leaned on the fence. Said, "Sorry 'bout him. Jes hyper."

Tino smiled. "That's alright." He licked his dry lips. "Um. Could I bother you for a drink? And maybe put this fish in your fridge?" He pursed his lips shyly, an apologetic look on his face.

Berwald managed half of a grimace-like smile and nodded, turning toward the house and the sound of Peter's excited—if wet—shouts.

Inside the house it was nice and cool. The A/C was blowing slightly chilled air through the rooms, bringing them to a pleasant temperature. Tino sighed with relief and sat at the carved wooden table in the kitchen. He closed his eyes as his tall friend stuck the cod in the refrigerator.

"Got some Thai iced coffee. Fresh jug." Berwald murmured. Tino's eyes fluttered open. Berwald's eyes caught his and he blushed, smiling. "That sounds nice. Maybe a small glass…" He let his eyes droop a little bit shut again and calmly watched Berwald go about pouring his drink into a stout little glass cup. It looked creamy and wonderful.

Tino sipped it with his eyes almost closed. He smiled. "Thanks, Ber." The glass was nice and cold on his palms. He curled his toes happily.

Berwald felt calm just looking at Tino. He sipped from his own glass, sitting down across from Tino.

Just then they heard the pitter-patter of tiny wet feet, and Peter slammed into Berwald's lap, drawing a grunt from the big man. He sniffled loudly, and Berwald put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Peter blubbered into his Papa's chest. "B-big doggy smiled mean at me!" He balled his teeny little hands into fists, pulling at Berwald's shirt.

Berwald sighed, rolling his eyes. "Not gon' eat ya."

Peter continued to bawl unintelligibly.

Tino raised an eyebrow. (Berwald's heart skipped a beat.) He asked, "What's this big doggy?"

Berwald smiled, patting his son on the back gently. "Ludwig's Rottweiler." He shook his head, amused. "Thinks it's gonna eat 'im."

Tino couldn't help but laugh, and covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle his tittering. He looked softly at Peter, who only said,

"Scary…"

Tino reached across the table and gave the boy a pat on the head, sipping at his coffee. "He's not going to eat you Peter. He doesn't eat people!" He licked his lips. (Berwald wondered if they tasted like iced coffee.)

Peter sniveled at him.

Berwald rubbed his boy's back. "Tino's right, Peter." He kissed Peter's forehead, which was clammy and wet from the sprinkler. Peter suddenly grinned widely, wiping his eyes, and ran back outside to continue where he had left off. Tino laughed.

"Such a sweet boy." He drained the rest of his coffee.

Berwald grunted in a way that clearly meant "Yup." His eyes were locked on Tino's round face.

Tino looked up at him and met his gaze—intense and aquamarine and affectionate. His smile wavered. He suddenly felt shy, and his stomach was feeling wobbly again. His face felt warm and he couldn't help but be a little tense. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. Anything to cut through the awkward quiet. Berwald's silent stare made him want to look away, but he couldn't. He licked his lips nervously.

Finally, he gathered up some courage. "B- Ber." Tino's eyelids fluttered, and he looked down at his bare knees. "I just… I know I mentioned it the other day, but I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me in the past two years—for helping me get away from that… man. I—I don't know what I'd do without you and you're the nicest person I've ever met…" He bit his lip. "And…" He looked up from under his eyelashes, then stood with a clatter. He walked around the table, put his hands on Berwald's broad shoulders, and kissed him.

Berwald's eye flew open wide, and his hands shook a little. His face went scarlet. Tino's lips were softer than he'd expected, but they _did _taste like coffee, as he'd expected.

The kiss was gentle, but also firm—Tino was shy sometimes, but never timid. Not with Berwald. He knew he was Berwald's equal and treated him as such.

Berwald stared at Tino in shock, as he pulled back and stood up straight, avoiding his eyes and blushing pink. He had a tiny smile on his lips.

Berwald blinked a few times. He put a hand to his mouth, as if to make sure it even existed. Had he really been kissed? Why yes… He could almost feel it, still. He cleared his throat. "Ti—Tino…" He frowned and stood.

Tino sort of looked at him, embarrassed.

Berwald smiled crookedly, as if he was terribly out of practice. "Thank you." He put his hands—palms flat—on Tino's hips and returned his kiss stiffly.

It was a long time before they separated, and Tino's arms snaked around Berwald's shoulder and Berwald closed his eyes because he was too embarrassed. It remained a very innocent kiss.

And then, "COOTIES! EW!"

Berwald's eyes flew open and he stepped back faster than a gunshot, almost overturning a chair. He stared at the floor as his entire body caught fire with mortification. His face must have been the color of a firetruck.

Tino looked away too, pink and smiling.

Peter stuck his tongue out and only said, "Bleeeeeeeh!" and then, "Papa, Mr. Milkman is here! He wants your money!"

Berwald gladly used the milkman as an excuse to leave the room, and hurried to the front door.

Peter leveled his eyes on Tino, who looked out the small kitchen window, hiding a grin behind his hand, toying with the strings on his trunks.

The little boy shook his head in disbelief. "Grown-ups are crazy. Mr. Vainymaineen, how come you a… adults… like to kiss each other, huh? And I thought only married people kiss so does that mean your Papa's wife now?"

"Huh?" Tino blinked. "W-wife?" He opened his mouth, and closed it, gaping like a fish. "Now hang on! I'm a man! And we're not married!" He frowned with embarrassment.

Peter ran toward the front of the house, chanting, "Papa's got a wife! Papa's got a wife! Mr. Vineyman is my new Mama!"

Tino pursued him closely.

The kid leapt off the porch, past the milkman, who smiled at Tino. Tino said, "Hi Gilbert!" and chased Peter through the sprinkler, crying, "I'm not his wife!"

Peter only laughed.

On the porch Berwald went red, and Gilbert the milkman chuckled and gave his shoulder a congratulatory slap.

Berwald would have to explain tact and discretion to Peter later… He smiled wordlessly. (Scared the shit out of the milkman.)

/end


End file.
